Yoshi
by The Humble Mosquito
Summary: Butler faces his toughest test from Madame Ko. It will challange far more than just his physical ability, it will attack his very morals and ethical instincts. Oneshot. 12LH


_**A QuickNote:** 'Yoshi' is a Japanese name, which means 'quiet.' _

_Also, both my geography – and my knowledge of the social economics -- of Japan are very limited. I don't know if there are any peasants, and there is unlikely to be a village called Kuruto on the banks of the Tama; I am not even sure that the Tama is visible from any of Tokyo's mountains. _

_Thanks to The White Lily for editing. _

**Disclaimer: **Domovoi Butler and Madame Ko are the creations of Eoin Colfer, not me.

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**Yoshi**

The air was always fresh and icy in the mountains. At first, he had found it uncomfortable: the thin, lack of God's precious oxygen had made the mountains seem almost vicious. But he had soon grown used to it; you grew used to everything, when Madame Ko was your instructor. A year and a half into his training, young Domovoi Butler powered around the field, not lingering on the thought that, were the average teenager to come here, they would be struggling to breathe, let alone run daily marathons. The grass was a pleasantly yellow shade of green, and a sheep lay calmly in the middle, eyeing his progress with its all-knowing brown eyes.

If the truth be told, Butler would have rather exercised on varying terrain, but it was Madame Ko's belief that the repetition of running around the same area for extended periods of time installed some kind of mental discipline, as well as physical conditioning. And for Butler, it was always this field; he had come to know it well over the last few months. He was aware of every divot and every trivial patch of mud – and had learned to adjust his stride pattern accordingly.

The slightest slip of the tongue, or the mere absence of an appropriate courtesy, and he would be here, spend hours circling this fenced off patch of grass. Butler never knew how long he would be there for, until it ended. And he didn't know what the longest time he had ever spent there was; sleep deprivation tended to blur the hours and days into one.

On this particular occasion, young Butler had done little wrong: Madame Ko had simply woken up in a bad mood.

There was no respite. If Butler's running speed dropped below a certain level, then the monitor on his left ankle would emit an electric shock through his body. He ran until Madame Ko chose to switch it off – or he would be slowly fried to death. It was perhaps odd, therefore, that Butler felt no real resentment towards Ko. There was nothing he wouldn't do for her; she was his master, and that in itself, was an honour.

Butler did think there was something slightly… awe inspiring, perhaps, about dashing about in the mountains. But he would have preferred to learn advanced combat techniques, or about surveillance technology. This was frustrating.

As he leapt around the corner, he turned to face the meadow of hill that led up to the top of the cliff. Right at the top – barely visible through the mist – was the collection of barns and huts that made up the Tokyo portion academy. They had spent the last three months here. At first, he had thought it a welcome break from the rigorous training at Tel-Aviv and Moscow, but tedium soon set in.

In the distance, just below the barns was a cloaked, hooded figure, whom Butler knew instantly to be Madam Ko.

Butler completed his next lap in double-time, and by the time he had, she was halfway down, and definitely approaching him. This time, Butler saw that there was something at her feet, almost rolling along in front of her. He squinted at it, but before he could bring it into focus, he reached the next corner in the fence, and had to turn his back to it.

On his third look, he could clearly make out her stern, wrinkled face. And he also realised that the object was, in fact, a human being – a beaten and malnourished peasant.

"Ah, Domovoi, having a fulfilling morning, I trust?" she called out to him in an uninterested way.

Butler bowed his head solemnly, but he wasn't stupid enough to stop moving.

Madam Ko pulled out a remote, and switched off the ankle strap.

Butler still didn't stop; Madam Ko didn't need electricity to hurt him. It was the golden rule at the academy: _no students shall start or stop any activity – physical, or otherwise – without instructions_; it was against the rules for students in their first two months of training to even think without permission. (Though the impracticalities of that rule meant that it was rarely enforced.)

"You may stop, Student."

Butler stopped and felt a little dizzy, as a result.

"Approach me, student."

Butler, with his head held low, approached her.

"Rise, Student."

Butler rose.

Madame Ko stared into his eyes for a while, as if searching for something within them. It was an odd sensation for Butler; he felt as though she was using his eyes as peep holes to his mind.

After a short time, Madame Ko appeared to notice he look of confusion on Butler's face, and said, "what is the matter student?"

"Forgive me, Madame Ko, but may ask the name of your acquaintance?" Butler glanced momentarily at the Japanese peasant, whose face had clearly been beaten.

"You may not. He has none; he is no longer deemed worthy of a name." she replied flatly.

"Why is this, Madame?"

"A name is a privilege that some people believe can be withdrawn."

"Why do you bring him here?"

"He is in outcast, a criminal," she said, as if that explained everything.

"With respect, that doesn't really answer my question."

"What makes you think that I am _trying _to answer your question, Student?"

"Yes Ma'am," he murmured sullenly. Butler found conversations like this extremely irritating; why was it necessary to appear so cryptic and condescending all the time?

"Student, today I have an important test for you – perhaps the_ most_ important test. It will be the defining moment in your time with me."

"What is it?" he asked quickly, hoping with all his heart that he would be getting an opportunity to demonstrate his latest headlock

"Ah, child, have I not taught you patience?"

"Many times."

"Then please implement it into your social repertoire," said the tiny lady.

"Yes, Madame Ko," Butler replied quietly.

"Good. Good. Now would you like me to tell you about the peasant?"

"If it pleases you," he said cautiously.

She smiled. "Your restraint is improving Student. Very well; I shall tell you." Her face stiffened. "He previously resided in a village known as _Kuruto_ that is situated around seven-hundred metres below our current location. It stands by the banks of an estuary of the Tama River. Do you know it?"

"I passed it on my journey to you. If it is the one I am thinking of, then it's just visible on the clearest of days."

"Yes, that's the one."

Butler looked at the peasant. There were a few forts situated in the lower mountains of Tokyo, and they were a far cry from the industrialised metropolis of the city. Hidden in the forests, these places were often unknown to Japanese authorities, and they were decades behind the city in terms of civilisation. They educated and ruled themselves, without any outside influence.

The peasant, as one would expect, was of an oriental ethnicity. His greasy, overgrown, black hair hung over his head, half concealing his features. Despite being at least a foot taller than Madame Ko, he sat crumpled, obediently at her feet, eyeing her fearfully. Spots of dried blood were interspaced with fresh wounds, yet he lifted not a finger to his own defence.

"As we are neighbours with the village, I have a long standing arrangement with the inhabitants of the village: every year or two, when we are based here, I make a journey to it, while the students are performing menial tasks."

Until this point, Butler had not been aware that Madame Ko ever left the confines of the school, wherever it may be.

"May I ask why you visit Kuruto, Madame Ko?"

"They lay on a magnificent feast for me, and I talk for a while with the elders of the -"

"You go simply to socialise?" Butler interrupted with unintended scepticism.

"No," she admitted curtly. "I go to collect a gift."

It took Butler about a quarter of a second to realise that the 'gift' was sitting in front of him.

"Him?"

"Yes, Domovoi, _him_. You see, every time we come here, I travel to the village so that I can bring back a _criminal_. In fact," she went on, "it is part of the reason we come to Japan – no one in Russia would be willing to provide us with one"

"A criminal!" Butler exclaimed, dumbfounded.

"Yes, Domovoi. They have no use for him, and I do."

Butler just stared, worrying that he had been asking too many questions.

"The man before you is guilty of rape and murder."

Any pity Butler had for the man was instantly swept away with a cool mountain breeze. His felt his face turned from warm sympathy to a hot, distrusting glower of disgust. Yet a moment later his contempt softened a little; the man did not look evil; his face was flat and harmless – there was no malice or darkness in his eyes. This feeling was perhaps intensified by his continued silence.

"Has he faced trial?"

"They have no need for trials. They have overwhelming evidence of his guilt."

"What is this '_evidence_'?" Butler snapped at her somewhat involuntarily.

Madame Ko's face turned a shade of red, and her eyelids lowered. "You forget your place, Domovoi. I would have thought days of menial work and manual labour would have taught you some respect. But no… you are a _problem case_. I haven't come across a more insolent Butler since…" her rant trailed off.

"Since my uncle?"

"Yes since… _him_," she said bitterly.

Butler couldn't keep a flicker of a smile off of his face; he truly adored his uncle, and all the dubious adventures he shared with the Artemis. That man made no time for anyone or anything except his criminal enterprises. It was often suggested that things might slow down if the Fowls could settle down and have a child, but as of yet, there was no one for Domovoi to inherit.

"Oh, yes," Madame Ko said disapprovingly "I did think that _you _would be rather fond of him. Still, there are worse role models: he fell into line, eventually."

Butler scowled at this statement; it had been a truly sad day when The Major had given up his integrity to the lure of criminal activities. But then, he knew in his heart that, one day, that transition would probably happen to him, too. Fowls never stayed within the law, and as a result, Butlers didn't either.

It occurred to Butler that eventually he might hold no more honour than the man in front of him. Sure, he'd probably hide behind the pretence that he was "just-doing-his-job," or that "he has no choice," but it was bullshit, and he knew it – traditions were easy to dispose of, when you were a teenager of Domovoi Butler's size. And that was all the Fowl-Butler association was: a _tradition_. He _wanted_ to be a bodyguard, and so by the same logic: he wanted to steal, he wanted to protect a criminal from the law, and ultimately he wanted to… _kill_.

As if with a new-found passion, Butler raised his voice, and said: "Enough is enough, Madame Ko; I have tolerated this patronising banter long enough: why have you brought this man here."

Madame Ko sighed. "As I said, this is a test. You -"

"Well, it's not turning out to be a particularly fulfilling test," he said flatly. "I am here to learn about personal protection; I am here to learn things that will enable to be a bodyguard. I am not here to participate in your pathetic mind games. No more, no more…" he trailed off.

"Oh, you want some action do you?" she began, talking quickly with rage building progressively in her tone, "well, that's good, because you're going to get some. Today."

Butler nodded, his pulse starting to lower from the momentary high.

Madame put her hand into her inside breast pocket, and pulled out an object, which was wrapped in cloth of glittery yellow silk; its colour shone beautifully in contrast to the greyness of the mist, but Madame Ko dropped it carelessly to the floor. She revealed an elegant black gun: tiny and straight; only the smallest of metallic crinkles stopped it from being a perfect L shape.

Butler had yearned to hold one of these for so many years, now. While most hormonal male teenagers dreamed of girls, Butler had fantasised about the black precision that was embodied in a handgun.

"This, Domovoi Butler, is a Sig-Sauer P226."

Butler eyed it suspiciously; only few of those were in use yet, and getting hold of one would have been difficult. He knew its appearance inside and out with the expertise of manufacturer.

A Sig – up until this point – wouldn't have been his first choice for a weapon, but now that he saw it in person, there was a certain… _quiet magnificence_ to it.

Madame Ko teased him with it for a while, caressing it through her fingers, tapping the grip on her decrepit palm, pretending to be thinking about whether to give it to him or not. Butler knew that she would. The question was what she would ask him to do with it.

She reached out her arm, and upturned a hand flatly so that the gun rested upon it. Butler took two tentative steps forward, and snatched the gun out of her hand. He stepped back quickly.

It was lighter than he expected – annoyingly so, even. Butler gave it his full attention for a few seconds, examining it like a forensic expert. He looked up a minute later, to find Madame Ko standing with her arms folded, impatient and expectant.

Butler gave her an interested wrinkle of the forehead and a questioning raise of the shoulders.

She paused for a moment. "Kill him."

Butler's world spun dizzily for a moment, and then he realised that he had _obviously _misheard. "Excuse me, Madame Ko, but -"

"You heard me correctly," she interjected. "I recommend a single shot to the head."

"You _cannot_ be serious," Butler spat out indignantly. "I can't… I can't _murder_ him."

"_Technically_, it's not murder; the death of this man has been approved by the judiciary of his residence. You are merely the… executioner. And that is beside the point, anyway."

"But he hasn't even faced trial!"

"Irrelevant, irrelevant," she dismissed absently.

"What do you bloody mean, 'irrelevant'?"

"What I mean, Domovoi, is that this is a test. What am I testing you on? I am testing you on your ability to serve your principal. After all, Domovoi," her voice changed and almost softened like she was letting him in on a secret, "a bodyguard is a glorified servant. In this situation, I represent your principal. I have given you an instruction; you must follow it."

"You want me to kill an innocent man in cold blood! I will not."

"So if you happen to disagree with the ethics of one of your principal's decisions, you plan to ignore it? If that is your intention, Domovoi, go home. You are wasting my time."

"What is his name?" Butler snapped.

"And why is that important?"

"I want to talk to him. His name, now!"

Madame Ko ignored him.

Butler growled inaudibly at Madame Ko, then he addressed the peasant, and began speaking in perfect Japanese: "What is your name?"

The peasant glanced uneasily up at Madame Ko, who shot him a glare which all but said, "_If you dare…_" And so he said nothing.

"Get on your feet, man. Don't be so pathetic." Butler took charge, dragging the man into the standing position – and doing everything he could to look more frightening than Madame Ko.

"Now, answer me: what is your name?"

The man once more glanced at Madame Ko, but Butler grabbed his chin, and forced the seemingly terrified peasant into looking at him alone.

"ANSWER ME!"

"Yoshi," he said quivering.

Butler almost smiled at the aptness. Almost.

"Are you a rapist and a murderer, Yoshi?"

Again, Yoshi looked over at Madame Ko, but this time Butler slapped his cheek to regain his attention.

"Don't look at her! Are you a murderer, Yoshi," Butler repeated.

"Domovoi, this is of no relevance, and frankly his answer is hardly likely to be -" Madame Ko tried to halt Butler's progress.

"I want to hear him say it!"

"Are you a rapist, Yoshi?"

The man broke down into floods of silent tears, like he was releasing months worth of oppressed sadness… or guilt… one of the two...

"No… no. No, I am no rapist!" he whimpered through his rain.

Butler patted him on the arm, and whispered, "Thank you, Yoshi."

Yoshi nodded and then cowered away, but not back to Madame Ko, for she was fuming.

Butler turned to face her. "This man tells me that he isn't a criminal. I have no evidence to the contrary. I won't kill him."

Madame Ko sighed.

"At some point in your life, Domovoi, you will choose to trust someone. Let it be me; let it be now; trust me more than your morals; trust me like you would trust your _principa_l…"

"I would let my principal die, before killing an innocent man."

Madame Ko looked down at the floor, as if admitting defeat.

"Then you are not ready to be a bodyguard, Domovoi. Perhaps you never will be."

Butler shrugged. "Perhaps."

"For now, all I can say is that you have failed this test."

Butler smiled. "Is there a re-test?" he quipped, knowing that he could take it a hundred or a thousand times and still not pass.

"Enough of your insolence. Do twelve more laps of the field, and then you will report to the academy cell for a month of solitary confinement – I think you need to reflect for a while."

Butler didn't flinch at the prospect of thirty days freezing of incarceration; she was right: he _did _need time to think.

Madame Ko went over to Yoshi, and dragged him out of the gate to the field. She paused for a moment at the bottom of the hill, and then turned back to Butler, as if she had been struck by an afterthought. "And I shall tell you this, Domovoi, no Butler before you has ever failed that test."

Butler couldn't up but feel defiant pride at this. A grin spread across his face. "Then, Madame Ko, I am surely the best of them all."

Madame Ko turned away, but just for a split second, Butler could have sworn he heard her mutter, "_maybe_."

But then they were gone up the hill – into the ever-thickening mist.

Butler turned his gaze to the pistol. "I _wonder_," he murmured.

He pulled out the magazine slowly; weapons like these had to be treated with care and respect… It was empty.

Butler laughed humourlessly, placed the gun in his pocket, and started to run.

**End**

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__Thanks for reading. This was written a while back, but it took a while for me to get the energy to edit it. I'm not completely happy with the writing style. And I kind of had a major plot hole to plug - cookies if you can guess what it was..._

_As ever, it would mean a lot if anyone could take the time to review. I respond to almost all reviews. CC would be nice, of course…_

_Thanks again to Lily – Sorry for the typos. In fact, sorry if anyone finds typos in this. I genuinely can't see them._


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